Mother Knows Best
by Pemonynen
Summary: "I might believe you Mary, if this were the first instance of you being unwell." Mary is ill, but is it what Isobel thinks, or something else? Mary/Isobel sort-of fluff, with a dash of Matthew thrown in.


_This is slightly new territory for me, but I had an idea, and I *had* to write it, and so I did (staying up until 2am last night to get it down), and now here it is! I've never written Isobel to any great length before, so I do hope I've done her justice!_

_Enjoy!_

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**Mother Knows Best**

"Hello Molesley, is Lady Mary at home?" Isobel beamed as she handed her coat to the butler, and tugged off her gloves.

"She is ma'am, she's upstairs at the moment though. Would you like some tea bringing through to the sitting room before luncheon?"

"Yes thank you," she smiled again as he nodded and walked through the hall. She was about to follow, when something occurred to her and she changed her mind, instead heading towards the stairs. She had wondered about something for a few days, and now seemed like the perfect time to get to the bottom of it. As she reached the top of the stairs, she heard the unmistakable sound of someone being sick. She looked around and saw Mary and Matthew's bedroom door ajar, smiling to herself as her nursing instincts took over.

"Mary?" Isobel called, knocking and pushing the door open, finding Mary bent over the basin on the dresser. She hurried to her daughter-in-law, rubbing the young woman's back as her shoulders heaved. Eventually, Mary took a deep shuddering breath, and another, straightening up, but shaking with the effort, her hands gripping the edge of the dresser as she tried to slow her breathing.

"Are you alright my dear?" Mary turned to face Isobel, who handed her a handkerchief so that she could wipe her face, her cheeks pale and waxy, and streaked with tears, her hair slightly unkempt as various tendrils had escaped from her usually immaculate style.

"Of course. I think I must have eaten something that doesn't quite agree with me," Mary met Isobel's curious expression, so much like Matthew's that she couldn't help but wish for him in that moment. Isobel wasn't fooled though, but she knew she couldn't ask outright, not yet. Living with her daughter-in-law had been a revelation in learning how to read the younger woman.

"Oh really? And are we to pass this information on to Mrs Bird, or to Mrs Patmore?" Isobel smiled, her eyebrows raised, knowing that both women would instantly blame the other for making a member of the family unwell, not that Isobel believed for a second that it was bad food that had caused Mary's illness.

"Oh, I…really couldn't say," Mary replied after a moment, her heart thudding in her chest, a fresh wave of nausea washing over her, taking a deep breath as it passed. "We ate at the Abbey last night after all. It could have been from luncheon here, or dinner there," she answered smoothly, crossing to the mirror to tidy her hair, moving away from Isobel's inquisitive gaze.

"I might believe you Mary, if this were the first instance of you being unwell." Isobel's voice was calm and amused, almost. Mary froze, her hands dropping limply to her sides, her fingers itching to curl into fists, anything that would alleviate the tension within her, her eyes widening, before she recovered and turned to face Isobel once more, smiling brightly…too brightly.

"Perhaps I have a cold then. Oh is that the time? Luncheon must be nearly ready." Mary turned on her heel, and headed out of the room before Isobel could reply, filled with panic that her mother-in-law _knew_, heading to the sitting room as she heard Isobel's footsteps behind her.

The two women ate in silence; Mary forcing down each mouthful, aware of Isobel's brown eyes watching her closely. She chewed slowly, taking as long as possible before she had to swallow, her eyes squeezing shut as she did, the smell of the ham sandwiches turning her stomach, then gulping down some water, before smiling broadly at Isobel, even as she felt the colour drain from her face, and the all too familiar sensation of bile rising up her throat.

"This is really…quite…delic – excuse me!" Mary clamped her hand to her mouth and ran out of the room and back up the stairs, retching into the bowl once more. Isobel followed, carrying a glass of water, which she set down on the side before repeating her action from earlier. Once she was certain that it was the last of it, Mary reached for the water, and sank heavily onto the edge of the bed.

"I don't think you have a cold," Isobel said matter-of-factly, but with a small smile, her eyes searching Mary's. "I think it's something else."

"Oh?"

Mary stared at Isobel, her heart now racing, her stomach fluttering with nerves and excitement, her fingers twitched as she waited for the inevitable question in breathless anticipation.

"Mary, are you pregnant?"

She couldn't have denied it even if she'd wanted to; the huge grin that broke out across her face and the dark eyes that were now brimming with tears told Isobel that which Clarkson had confirmed over a week ago.

"Oh my dear, that's wonderful!" Mary nodded, the power of speech momentarily failing her, as Isobel embraced her.

"How long have you known?"

"I've wondered for a few days. I thought you might be. I take it that Matthew doesn't know yet?"

Mary shook her head and bit her lip, still smiling, thinking of all the times she had wanted – _tried_ – to tell him, but then losing her nerve in the last second, and instead whispering that she loved him, or making some inane comment about the weather or saying that she was going out for a walk. She'd never walked as much in her life as she had in the past week.

"I've not managed to find the right time to tell him."

"I suppose it's a good thing then, that he never took an interest in medicine," the older woman's eyes twinkled mischievously as she gently teased her son. "But you must tell him soon." Mary nodded in agreement, her hands drifting to her still flat stomach, stroking distractedly.

"Are you pleased?" Isobel said after a moment, watching her daughter-in-law's hands with a fond smile, remembering how she had learnt of her own pregnancy, how she had been so nervous to tell Reginald, and the overwhelming relief she had felt when he had taken her in his arms in ecstatic joy.

"Yes," Mary grinned again, unable to stop as pure happiness filled every fibre of her being. "I hope…I hope that Matthew will be too, though. We've never discussed it, not properly, so I hope he won't think…that it's too soon," she spoke a little more quietly, voicing the fear – one of the fears – that had plagued her since she'd found out.

"He will be, and it isn't," Isobel reached for Mary's hand and clasped it in hers. "When are we to expect the new arrival?"

"Oh, late June, Clarkson said." Isobel's heart swelled with affection at the tremor in Mary's voice, recognising the nerves and excitement that filled those early months of pregnancy. Mary's hands lightly stroked over and over her abdomen, smiling in relief that, _finally_, someone besides the doctor knew her secret. It was just unfortunate that it was not the person who needed to know, Mary thought to herself with a wry smile.

"Tell him tonight. I'll come straight up after dinner, and you can tell him then," Isobel patted Mary's leg with a smile, startling her from her thoughts.

"If you don't mind-"

"Not at all," and with that Isobel pressed a kiss to the glowing young woman's cheek, squeezed her hand affectionately and stood, making her way to the door. "I hope you know that I'm very happy for you both…_all_!" She smiled again as she closed the door behind her.

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"I hope Mother is feeling better tomorrow," Matthew frowned as he sipped his wine, still confused as to why Isobel had left so abruptly after the plates had been cleared, with a knowing look directed at his wife.

"Oh, I'm sure she will… It's just that time of year," Mary answered with a weak smile, wishing her heart would slow down as she took a deep breath and took a mouthful of water.

"Darling, are _you_ alright? You look very pale," Matthew leaned forward, having watched his wife closely all evening. She'd seemed tense and on edge, as if she was nervous about something. He reached for her hand, smiling at the instant warmth that spread through him as their fingers laced together. Mary swallowed. Well, this was it. Now or never. She squeezed his hand and looked deeply into his bright blue eyes.

"Actually Matthew, I have something I need to tell you, and it's quite important…"

_**Fin.**_

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_Thank you for reading; I'd love to hear your thoughts!_


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